things weren't ever cotton white

Sunday, February 26, 2006


things weren't ever cotton white

the lines intertwined,
letters became dyslexic...
turned around in their shoes...





i am staring out a windowpane,
trying to ignore my obnoxious reflection



it was a hallmark card.
i dropped it in a lake somewhere.
the letters smeared,
the paper became pulpy,
just a break in the smooth reflection of a crescent moon...



i am squirming in my swivel chair.
picking at my crippled nails,
carelessly chipping the purple paint away



it must have been a dream i had,
one of those cliff coincidences.
my balance was lost,
and i fell,
with clumps of dirt chasing after my toes



half awake...
my mattress still shaking...

(i haven't dreamt in a couple days)



my saliva still tastes like asparagus and potatoes,
stomach is full,
chest is vacant,
shoulders sag




it must have been one of those annoying days,
where you wake up an hour early
and sleep
is no longer welcoming



the rest of the day just turns to shit from there.